Mind Over Matter
by Fear Herself
Summary: Aaron Hotchner and his team are the FBI's worst kept secret. AU.


**A/N: Hello! Well, this is my first CM fanfic and I guess I should explain a little.  
It was a hot day in late August, and me and my friend Sparrow were sitting in her mother's car, chatting while we waited for her return.  
"You know," Sparrow started. "I showed my cousin _Criminal Minds_ and he thought they all had superpowers, like in _Heroes_."  
"Oh, that would be so cool!" I grinned. "What powers do you think they'd have?"  
And so, our day was spent creating a strange and wonderful alternate universe that only two girls trying to hold onto summer could.  
But school came around, and the idea grew less important.  
That is, until my friend Sarah (or as you may know her, Mystery Hunter) read the story and loved it.  
I began it once more, and now here we are.  
I hope you enjoy this story as much as we did creating it.  
Oh, and this series will be done in an episodic format, just so you know. **

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_**Mind Over Matter**_

_**Episode One: Truth Be Told**_

**Chapter One: ****Two Sides of the Same Coin**

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Aaron Hotchner and his team were the FBI's worst kept secret.

There had never been an official statement to the other agents about them, but they knew. There was an unspoken agreement between them, no one said anything and they all just went on with their work.

Technically, Hotch and his team were part of the BAU. They were profilers and they worked cases like every other person there. But the other agents pretended that they were another division entirely. He couldn't blame them. He would have been a little wary of his team too if suddenly a pencil started tapping itself on the one of their desk or the coffee machine spontaneously combusted while one of them was standing near it (granted, that had only happened once but they refused to let him forget it).

But as time wore on, the others grew used to the strangeness. Eventually, no one would bat an eye at a keyboard typing by itself or the occasional small fire (well, maybe the latter still startled them just a bit).

Morgan had once told him "We're freaks, the BAU is considered freaky -we were made for this job." and Hotch had to agree. Someone had to investigate the, as the other agents put it, "freaky stuff", and who better to do that then the freaks?

Hotch yawned and blinked a few times, fighting the urge to close his eyes and drift off. It had been a restless night, Jack ran into his and Haley's room at two AM, crying from a nightmare. They'd spent the next hour trying to calm him down, eventually giving into his demands to sleep in their room because "The monsters are scared of daddy". Unfortunately, their bed wasn't made for three and there had been much kicking, squirming and blanket-stealing that kept him from sleep for the rest of the night.

Hotch glanced at his watch.

_10: 26 AM_

Only? He yawned again and stood up. If he was going to get through today, he needed coffee. Lots of it.

He wandered over to the door and pulled it open, pausing to look over the few cubicles in front of him.

Reid, Elle and Morgan leaned by her desk, chatting (or bickering, he never could tell with those three) and JJ sat by her computer, fingers clacking away on keys while her coffee stirred itself. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He walked over to the coffee machine in the back of the room. A pair of agents stood there, mugs in hand and laughing. One glanced up and spotted him. He seemed to forget what they were laughing about, quickly jabbed his friend in the shoulder and gestured to Hotch. The other agent's face fell and he quickly turned to leave, his friend in tow.

Hotch ignored them and grabbed a mug. The coffee in the pot was lukewarm and had most likely been sitting there for hours. Since only the truly daring (or truly desperate) used their coffee machine, a fresh pot was rarely on the burner.

He poured the brown sludge into his cup, then glanced around. Making sure no one was watching, he looked down at the cup and focused on it's content. As usual, it started out with a gentle tingling in his finger tips and after a moment, little bubbles began to arise in the coffee as it boiled.

"Is it really too much trouble to put on a fresh pot?" A voice teased from behind. Hotch didn't have to turn around to see who it was, he already knew.

"No one uses this thing, the coffee will just go to waste." he replied as Emily Prentiss came to his side and grabbed the coffee pot. She sniffed it and grimaced.

"Wrong, people do use this thing. Namely, me," she poured the remnants down the sink.

"And they all think you're crazy for it." he said as she refilled the pot. Prentiss smiled.

"Crazy? More like hard core. People who catch serial killers are afraid of this thing and I'm daring enough to use it." She glanced down at Hotch's cup and her smile faltered a little. He caught this and looked as well. The coffee was still bubbling and steam floated up in thick waves. But what really caught their attention was the now deformed mug molded to Hotch's hand.

There was a moment of awkward silence, then Prentiss began to laugh.

"Another reason to just make a fresh pot." She reached over and placed a finger on the mug's brim. It seemed to shine for a moment, then the coffee stopped bubbling and steaming and the mug grew cool. "Third time this month you've wrecked a cup."

"I'm pretty sure it's only the second." he said as she withdrew her finger.

"It scares me to think of what happened before I came along." she laughed.

"We had to bring our own cups," A new voice said. The pair turned to face it's owner. "I think it's part of the reason you were assigned here, free fire control."

"So not because of the profiling skills I've worked so hard on? You really know how to make a girl feel apreiciated." Prentiss said sarcastically as Jason Gideon grinned.

"I said _part_ of the reason. All of your skills are valued here, profiling and free fire control." She smiled. He returned it, then became stoic. He turned to Hotch.

"Get everyone to the boardroom." he said.

"New case?" he asked, although the answer was obvious. Gideon nodded and walked towards said room.

Hotch turned and looked at the fresh pot of coffee sitting on the burner, then to Prentiss, who shrugged.

"It'll still be here when we get back."


End file.
